


First Time

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Desperation, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Love, M/M, Marcky, Nervousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he's young and inexperienced, but with Nicky on top of him, Mark can't remember why he's held out this long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Time

God, Nicky’s hair is nice, Mark thinks as he strokes the mop of blonde that rises and falls on his chest. It’s so silky and... nice. Just nice. There’s no better word to describe it. Or there is, and he just doesn’t know it yet. But nice seems pretty perfect for the moment, at least until he can bothered to find a thesaurus.

There are a lot of nice things about Nicky. His hair is the obvious one, but there are also his eyes. Bright blue and so... nice. But he can’t see those at the moment, so he’ll go back to what he can see.

The back of Nicky’s neck is nice, and his left ear. Can’t see the right one because it’s pressed into his chest, but he knows that’s nice too. No, more than nice. Beautiful. That’s the better word he was looking for, but just couldn’t find.

Beautiful. Nicky is beautiful. He’s not handsome or sexy, well he is, but that’s beside the point. Those things are part of the beauty. Nicky is beautiful in that amazingly ethereal way that’s all blue eyes and blonde hair and pink lips and smooth skin. And what skin it is. Mark hasn’t seen all of it, not yet, the same as Nicky hasn’t seen all of his. They’ve been waiting. Or Mark’s been waiting and Nicky’s been remarkably accommodating, horny little bugger that he is. But skin. Yeah. Wow. And beautiful too. Creamy and smooth and so incredibly soft. Softer than a butterfly’s wing, and even more delicate.

There’s not much skin on show at the moment. Just neck, and ear, and the fingers that caress Mark’s hip even in sleep, where his shirt has ridden up. Everything else is covered by long sleeves and pyjama bottoms and incredibly unfashionable white socks. Nicky. Unfashionable. Weird. But not, because Mark feels privileged to be the one to see Nicky’s unfashionable side. Feels strangely honoured that Nicky hasn’t bothered to dress up for him. This is just Nicky, in the raw. Vulnerable and naked, even though he’s still fully clothed. Just for Mark.

Mark lets his hand wander gently up and down Nicky’s spine, feeling the small bumps through his shirt. Wanders lower, trying not to wake the blonde, and smiles with satisfaction when he realises that there’s a little bit more skin here. A tiny little sliver between top and pants, and if Mark could see it, he would be able to see Nicky’s tattoo spider across that tiny slice of skin. He had hated that tattoo at first, blamed it for marring the otherwise unearthly perfection of Nicky’s skin, but now he loves it. Because it’s a part of Nicky, the edges beginning to blend into his skin as time goes by and making it seem as if it was meant to be there all along. And how could anything that’s a part of Nicky possibly be bad?

Almost without thinking about it his fingers start to trace the tattoo. He can’t see it, is going on pure instinct, but doesn’t need to look to know that he’s doing it right. Has done it a million times before and is assured by the ease of long practice. Nicky always smiles while he’s tracing; smiles and kisses him gently and sighs his name even more gently. Even in sleep, he can hear Nicky whisper softly.

“Mark...”

Soft and hoarse, and he knows Nicky’s not awake. Can tell by the throaty hitch in the older boy’s voice. Still asleep he shifts in Mark’s arms and rubs his face into Mark’s t-shirt, as if trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his chest. Mark keeps stroking, not wanting Nicky to wake necessarily, but loving the quiet adoration in Nicky’s voice Wants to hear more. Knows he will when Nicky wakes up.

Back up to silky blonde strands, letting them tickle his fingers as he rests his hand at the top of Nicky’s neck. Cupping his palm and moulding it to the shape of the smaller boy’s skull. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

Nicky shifts again and Mark knows he’s woken up, can tell by the change in breathing. But Nicky doesn’t seem willing to advertise this fact for the moment, and neither is Mark, too content like this. Just him, and Nicky, and sleep.

But he’s not disappointed when Nicky finally speaks.

Soft, and that throaty hitch is still there, but it’s an infinitely more awake hitch. And Mark feels pathetically proud that he knows the difference

“God... this is nice.”

“Mmm hmm.” It’s non-committal. Mark knows that Nicky knows exactly what it means.

“Are you cold?”

Oh yeah, he’s wearing short sleeves, and Nicky isn’t. And he’d like to say that love makes him warm enough, but that’s sickeningly romantic and he’s not that pathetic. Shivers slightly now that Nicky’s reminded him of the fact, and Nicky tightens his grasp, rubbing one bare arm to warm it.

“Do you want a jacket or something?”

“Nah.” Mark replies. And he would, on any other occasion, but he knows that that would require him to move, and he doesn’t want to do that right now. Not when Nicky’s laying on top of him. Because it’s just so nice.

Nicky nods and shifts again, and Mark can finally see his right ear. And his eyes. Blue and heavy, the fault of a half hour or so of sleep. Nicky’s looking up at him and smiling and Mark can’t help it. Has to trace his fingers over that tattoo to see that smile, and hear that sigh. And then receive that kiss as Nicky cranes his neck and presses their lips gently together. No tongue, but even better than some of the tongue kisses he’s had in his life, because it’s Nicky doing it.

The tongue does appear as Nicky pulls away, a habitual sweep over the top lip and then away again. And Mark smiles, making Nicky smile back. All pink lips and lovely crooked teeth that are so fucking sexy it’s unbelievable.

“I love you.”

Nicky grins in response and presses his lips against Mark’s again. Still no tongue, but a little firmer than before and Mark just _has_ to moan into the kiss, because it’s just so erotically chaste. And it’s _Nicky_.

“Love you Marky.”

His hand is still on the back of Nicky’s neck, he realises, so he begins to move it again, tracing reverently through the soft down there. Along the notch that leads to a long sinuous spine, curving and rippling under his other palm.

Lips again, hot and damp and he thinks maybe he’s beginning to tire of the fact that they’re still closed. But now they’re not and _oh_ , hot slick tongue that sends a sick little thrill to his groin and makes him remind himself that they’re waiting. That he’s not ready. Or maybe he is ready. Or maybe... maybe he’s not. Or maybe he has no idea any more because he’s sucking on Nicky’s tongue, futilely trying to get as much _taste_ off that sinfully talented muscle as he can. And his fingers aren’t so much _tracing_ the back of Nicky’s neck as _squeezing_ because.

Fuck Nicky’s a good kisser.

“Mmm...” It’s more a whimper than a moan, and Mark swallows it greedily, his other hand moving to Nicky’s lower back and pulling them together, trying desperately to ignore the fact that they’re both desperately hard. Because he’s not ready.

Not.

Not ready.

Ready.

So so fucking _ready_.

“Nicky... oh god!” He can’t believe that’s just come out of his mouth, a mewling whimper that’s just so not _him_. Or maybe it is and he didn’t know because he’s suddenly open to this whole new range of stimuli that he’s never experienced. Didn’t even know he could experience because Christ he’s _hard_. And Nicky’s hard and he can’t help but push up in blatant invitation, needing Nicky to be hard against him.

“Mark?” Sits back and looks down at him, his eyes asking the question. Mark decides they’ve both hung on long enough, and why did he even want to hang on in the first place when he could have been _here_ with _Nicky_ and doing what they were about to _do?_

“I... um...” He wants it, he knows he does, but it seems embarrassing to ask for it. Dirty. He can feel a blush rising to his cheeks.

A cool hand on his hot cheek. “You’re so beautiful when you blush.” Softly whispered and another chaste kiss on his lips. Looks up at Nicky, who’s staring down with love in his eyes, and restrained lust. But Mark is comforted because he knows that if he said stop, then Nicky would, no matter how desperate he was. He’s done it before, when Mark has lain guiltily in bed and listened to the soft gasps through the bathroom door that announce Nicky’s orgasm. “Mark?” His own name startles him out of his reverie and he shakes his head to clear it before looking back up. Knows that his own eyes are as questioning as Nicky’s.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t...” Deer in headlights has nothing on him. “What do you want?”

“That doesn’t matter. What do you want?”

“I want... I want you.”

“You’re sure?” Mark can see from Nicky’s eyes that it’s only courtesy. Nicky knows exactly what he wants, and knows that Nicky wants it even more. Has held out for much longer than Mark ever thinks he could have if he was in Nicky’s position.

A nod, and Nicky returns it, bending down to... more lick him then kiss him. Tongues sliding together as lips move clumsily and hungrily, needing to taste everything. Lip on his chin, but that tongue’s still in his mouth and... god... is Nicky a good kisser. And good at... Christ... grinding his hips down and fuck Nicky is _hard_.

“Mark...” A soft moan that makes Mark shudder as he feels it echo from Nicky’s throat through his lips. Nicky’s pulse beating against his tongue as he licks at the stubble Nicky keeps saying he will shave off tomorrow. Sharp stabs against his tongue that diminish as he works further down and pulls cotton aside so he can suck at Nicky’s shoulder. Smooth and creamy and tastes so good in his mouth. Sweat and soap and _Nicky_. The best fucking taste of all.

“Mark.” Again, but sliding down the scale as Nicky’s hands press against his chest and knead, and suddenly Mark’s not so cold any more. Is in fact hot. Because it’s not love that makes you warm, it’s fucking _lust_. And Mark needs his shirt _off_. Needs Nicky’s shirt off. Needs their trousers off. Needs...

But he’s getting a little ahead of himself. First Nicky’s shirt. Off. Discarded almost immediately and both of them hiss as his fingers hesitantly press to Nicky’s stomach and move up, breath held as he gets closer and closer to dark nipples, breath still held as they harden under his fingers. Thorn into his palms. Breath released as Nicky lets out a low moan because there’s no way he can moan himself and not let the breath out. It’s a physical impossibility. And it’s also a physical impossibility not to moan again and thrust up as Nicky’s hands creep under his shirt and press into his belly.

“Nix...” Another soft moan. “Nix...” More like a groan this time as his shirt is edged up and he raises his arms, sitting up just enough that his shirt is gone. Falling back to the bed and pulling Nicky to him, kissing him, hand in blonde hair to pull him closer. Need him closer.

“Oh...” Nicky’s eyes on his chest as he pulls away, hands raking through the hair there. Pinpricks of pain when they pull. But it’s a good pain, an exquisite pain, because Nicky’s _moaning_ at the sight of his _chest_ and then bending down and moaning at the _taste_. “Mark...”

A warm wetness around his nipple and Mark can’t _not_ thrust up against that. Feels like liquid fire as Nicky sweeps his tongue all around and Mark cries out embarrassingly loudly and god, how will that feel around his _cock?_

Hand in Nicky’s hair, squeezing tightly, not wanting Nicky to ever move. But needing him to take care of the aching pangs spreading outwards from his groin. It’s a hard choice to make, but he allows Nicky to pull away and latch himself to the other nipple. A hand moving down, tracing his belly button and making him squeak. Following the trail of dark hair to his waistband.

So hard now and he doesn’t think he can hold out. Is embarrassed that he’s almost like a teenager in heat because now he _knows_ that he can’t hold out. Is going to come in his pants if Nicky doesn’t do something about removing them soon.

“Nnnnnng...” As his trousers and boxers are removed in one movement, jumping when his cock smacks up hard against his belly and he can see Nicky _drooling_. Licking his lips and fucking _drooling_. Can’t look. Can’t look at Nicky. Has to look at something else to stop himself from coming, even though he knows it won’t help. Looks around. Lamp. Ceiling. Sheets. His own hand digging convulsively into the pillow, knuckles white. But Nicky. Nicky pressing his face into Mark’s groin and fucking _inhaling_. Sniffing in his scent and he just _can’t_.

“Ni...cky!” Gasped out loud, needs to tell Nicky to take mercy on him, or needs to warn him, or something. And Nicky’s back and Mark’s looking at the ceiling again. Lamp. Wardrobe. Bathroom door. Ceiling.

“Mark. Look at me. Look at me babe.”

So hard, but he manages it, whimpering when his eyes meet Nicky’s and he didn’t know it was possible for his cock to get any harder.

“Nix... can’t... can’t... have to... please I...” It’s gibberish. Total gibberish, but Nicky understands, gives him a sympathetic, loving smile, stroking his cheek.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, smoothing his thumb over Mark’s bottom lip, eyes darkening when soft flesh springs back into place. “It’s okay, babe. Calm down.”

“Can’t... can’t...” Really can’t, because he can already _feel_ it moving up his cock, ready for release. And who knew cum could move that slow? Tries to hold it back, at least to stop himself looking like a horny fifteen year old.

“Gonna take the edge off.” Nicky murmurs, bending down and kissing Mark’s soundlessly moving lips. “It’s okay.”

Fingers around his cock, barest bit of pressure and _Oh Fucking FUCK!_ Hot burning lava forcing out of his cock, almost painful, warm splash on his belly and over Nicky’s hand. Hot and fucking... good. And it seems so completely dirty that he’s still hard. But there’s no way he couldn’t be when Nicky’s licking Mark’s _cum_ off his _fingers_.

Drops back to the bed without even realising he’s left it, back twinging slightly as he comes out of a cruel arch. And Nicky’s still licking. Ring finger in his mouth, tongue flickering for a moment before releasing it with an incredibly obscene _pop_. Then smacks his lips, grinning and bending down to kiss Mark, letting him taste himself and smiling at the groan Mark doesn’t even bother to abort.

“You taste so good.” Purred against his lips and making them tingle slightly with the movement and the hot breath that even _smells_ of cum. “So beautiful when you come.” Nicky traces a damp finger over his lower lip, pressing gently, eyes intent on the moving digit. “Could watch you come all day.”

“Nicky...”

“Mmm?” And Mark wonders how Nicky can even think, let alone speak, when he’s as hard as he is. Can feel it pressing against him through Nicky’s pyjama bottoms and is suddenly aware that his own trousers and boxers are still around his ankles. Kicks them off, blushing as Nicky chuckles.

“I want...”

Nicky’s head cocked to the side in invitation and Mark doesn’t even bother to finish his sentence. Grips Nicky’s waistband and pushes, strangled whimper escaping when he realises.

No. Boxers.

Nicky shimmies out of the last remnants of any modesty he ever had and Mark can’t help but be transfixed as Nicky’s cock bounces slightly with the movement. Nicky’s _cock_. Wonders why he even wanted to wait when he’s not exactly a virgin himself. But that’s different because he’s never done it with another man before, has made it to eighteen years old without even really considering it. Never realised he wanted to until the sexual epiphany that is Nicholas Byrne. But Nicky has done it with other men and. Nicky. Nicky’s _cock_.

“Mark...” Nicky pushing rhythmically against his belly, each press followed by a momentary drag and Mark can’t help but whimper because. Nicky’s _cock_. Against his _belly_.

Grabs Nicky’s hips and pulls him down harder, lips and tongues sliding together. Sort of. Not really because he’s not even sure where his lips _are_ any more. Because Nicky’s _cock_ is against his _belly_. And Nicky’s _thigh_ is against his _cock_ and.

“Mark...” His name again, and Mark doesn’t think he’s ever liked his name so much. Husky and hoarse and sexy and needy and Christ he _needs_ Nicky. Pushes himself up as he pulls Nicky down again, biting into Nicky’s lower lip and still loving the unashamed cry of his name.

“Mark!” A loud whimper that Mark wants to wrap up and keep in his shirt pocket, right next to his heart. Soppy maybe, but.

“Nicky...”

“Mark... Jesus...” Thrust up, tug down, and his stomach is wet and sticky with precum. Nicky mewling and crying and groaning like he’s only ever thought about in his _dreams_. “Oh... oh God... need...”

“Nix...”

“Mark... babe I...”

“Love you.”

“Love... Mark!”

Hot cum over his stomach and mixing with his own cooling mess. Nicky’s eyes so blue and dark, rolling back as he falls forward onto Mark and drops his blonde head awkwardly into the crook of Mark’s neck. Hard gasps shaking his entire body.

“Mark...” Soft and hitching now, so different to the earlier sobs and cries, but equally good. And Mark can’t help the little flush of pride that spreads through his body at the thought that he’s made Nicky _come_. “Mark... Oh Jesus... Love you. Love you babe.”

“Love you.” But he’s fucking hard _again_ and needs to get rid of it somehow. Can’t carry this forever, even though he’s perfectly willing to wait a moment until Nicky can move. He’s rendered Nicky immobile. How cool is _that?_

Nicky’s breathing evens out slightly – doesn’t slow down – just less harsh and frantic. Has a rhythm at least. A gentle hand inching down to his cock and Nicky’s semi-hard _again_.

“Nix.” Sighs until fingers wrap around his balls and squeeze slightly. “Nicky!”

“Mmmm?”

Can’t reply properly, can only say Nicky’s name over and over. And you’d think he’d have a hold on it by now, having already come once, but no. Nicky’s rubbing himself sensuously over Mark’s body, tongue deep in his mouth.

“Nix... Jesus...”

“Hard still...” Nicky whispers, as if Mark couldn’t already tell. But it’s just so fucking sexy hearing those words come out of this blonde angel’s mouth. “Want you again, Marky. You’re hard again too, aren’t you? Hard for me?”

A sharp hiss. “Yes...”

“Love you like this. So beautiful. Want you.”

“Anything.” Anything.

“Want...” Nicky rubbing them hard together, lips moving gently to the same slow rhythm. “Want... want to make love to you. Want...” Stops and pulls away, and Mark can feel his heart speed up as he realises what Nicky’s just said. Gentle hand on his cheek and Mark can read so much trust in the deep blue eyes that it seems like a betrayal not to trust them back. “Mark, I... Want to make love to you babe. But don’t. Don’t feel like you have to. Just... if you want to.” Hurried, fluttering kiss, but no less meaningful. “It might hurt. Don’t want to hurt you, love you too much. Just say stop and I’ll. Love you.”

“Nix?” Cups Nicky’s cheek and presses his thumb to stuttering lips until Nicky finally takes the hint.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Blinks. “Right. Right, sorry.” Silence for a moment and Nicky bites his lip. “Mark?”

Strokes blonde hair as he thinks about his answer, mesmerised by the way the strands slip between his fingers. Like the sun on a waterfall. Something precious and golden.

He smiles, pressing lips to Nicky’s forehead.

“Yes.”

Nicky blinks again, a happily surprised smile spreading over his face and lighting his eyes. “Yes?”

Has to broaden his smile, because Nicky looks so absolutely _delighted_. It doesn’t even enter his mind that maybe it’s just because Nicky wants to fuck him, use him, because he knows that’s not true. Can see it in the complete honesty in Nicky’s face. In Nicky’s entire being.

Nicky loves him, and there’s nothing else Mark would rather give him than himself.


End file.
